


Game Night (Sherlock Holmes/Reader)

by AHintOfPestoAioli



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After TRF but a kinda AU, Evil Jim, F/M, Hurt John, Hurt Sherlock, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, John Watson - Freeform, John is adorable, Nervous John, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock is a Tease, Sherlock is sexy, bit of Violence, gets a bit heavy in the 3rd chapter, reader - Freeform, reader is smart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHintOfPestoAioli/pseuds/AHintOfPestoAioli
Summary: Sherlock, John and the Reader all have a game night. Jim Moriarty likes to play games his own way.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! Please leave kudos or a comment if you feel like it! This is also posted on Tumblr if you wanna check it out there. Im @rulerofpi on tumblr and twitter. Have a lovely day! :D

“It was the victim, in the dining room, with the rope. It’s all so obvious!” Sherlock passionately rejoiced, clearly thrilled at his conclusion.”W-what!?” You stammered, startled by his sudden outrageous outburst. You, Sherlock, and John were all sat in 221B playing Cluedo, because according to a disheartened and unimpressed Sherlock, “Apparently, no one gets murdered on a rainy Sunday in London.”  

 

John shook his head and placed it firmly in his palms. You looked back and forth between Sherlock and John. Disbelief and astonishment were plastered across your face. “But, the rules, Sherlock!” You said grasping desperately for any grounds you could win this one-sided argument with, as it seemed John would be of no help. “Don’t.” John muttered, holding a hand up to you to stop you from prodding further, as he knew your attempts would be futile. He gave you a half-hearted chuckle and sighed. Sherlock stood up from his chair and strode across the room, to where you were sat near the fireplace. He bent down in front of your face and smirked. “I. Win.” He proclaimed, the words slipping off of his tongue for the umpteenth time that night. Pressing a quick kiss to the end of your nose, he gave you a cocky half smile. “Better luck next time, Dear.” He winked, toying with the term of endearment. Infuriated by his antics, you pushed him away causing him to stumble back slightly before he quickly regained his balance and continued to be delighted. 

 

It was the fourth board game you had tried to play that night, and he managed to win every single one so far. John, who had now excused himself to answer a call, was about done trying to find a game that either of you could win. Nevertheless, you were determined to find something, anything, that you could one-up your boyfriend on. “What’s the next game?” Sherlock challenged, swiftly whipping himself around to face you, shoving the game of Cluedo off of the small table into it’s box. He tossed the game aside as if it were one of his case files that he deemed unworthy of his attention. You groaned, rolling your eyes over to the pile of games stacked beside your chair that was growing smaller in comparison to the games won by Sherlock near his chair. Next up, Monopoly. It was a game you had always enjoyed because it was a game of luck, thanks to the dice and random card drawings, and Sherlock can’t beat luck. You picked up the large box from the floor and slammed it down on the table, smiling devilishly up at him. You opened the box, revealing it contents. Picking up the smooth die in your hands you rolled them around in your palms, looking up at Sherlock who seemed to be coming off of his high of winning. Tossing them onto the table with a loud clink, you managed to roll a perfect ten, serving only to make you more confident about the game.

 

“Alright then.” Sherlock said, never breaking eye contact with you. He took a seat across from you and picked out the top hat playing piece, wordlessly declaring it as his own. “Let’s begin.” He smirked, opening up the board and smoothing it out on the cool table. “Shouldn’t we, you know, wait for John?” You raised an eyebrow, attempting to slow his eagerness to win again down. “Oh, I suppose.” He quietly replied, leaning back in his chair tapping his toes impatiently on the rug below him. “Although,” he suggested after a few moments, causing you to give him a questioning look, “We both know John won’t win anyways.” He admitted, silently and indirectly acknowledging the amount of brains you had. “I heard that!” John called out gruffly from the stairs. You held back a giggle as Sherlock simply murmured, “Oops.” while rolling his icey grey-blue eyes.

“I’ve got this game in the bag. I’ve had years of practice.” You idly chatted, seeming uninterested and examining your nails. You bit back a smirk as you saw a look of astonishment, at your brazen self-confidence in this particular game, grace his features. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water for a few seconds, trying to find the words to combat yours. However he soon settled on just staying quiet for awhile. You smirked at him as he avoided your eyes. After a few moments, you noticed his eyes suddenly lit up. You could clearly see that an idea had popped into his magnificent mind. “Hmm?” You asked while twisting your hair around your finger, still keeping up the act of disinterest. 

”What are the stakes?” He inquired, leaning forward trying to get you intrigued once again. You copied his movements, much to his pleasure, and pondered his question for a moment. An idea came into your head as a huge smile spread across your face, unable to hold it in. “What?” he questioned, studying your face. “The solar system.” You said, taking note of how he reacted. He seemed confused before pushing further, “Care to explain?” You shook your head, sighing at how disappointingly naive your boyfriend could be at times. “I win, you have to let me and John teach you about the solar system.” You explained slowly, leaning even further in towards his slender figure. He rolled his eyes and flung himself back into the chair. “But it’s so dull! Why would I even need to know any of it?” He whined, throwing his hands up. You were appalled by this and informed him, “It’s elementary, my dear Holmes.” He mulled over this, sitting back up in his original position and nodded.

 

“And if I win?” He questioned, voice deep, grazing a hushed tone. A mischievous grin plastered on his mouth as he closed the gap between your face and his. You held in a surprised noise that threatened to come out. His gaze fell to your lips, his eyes darkening. Tipping his chin up ever so slightly, you looked him dead in the eyes. “Anything you want.” You breathed, attempting to channel your inner ‘Woman’. A look of shock flashed on his face for a split second before quickly being replaced by a lustful one. The corners of your lips turned up into a coy smile. He began to push himself closer to you. His lips lightly brushed yours, making you whimper ever so slightly. His large hand came up to the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He hummed, smirking against your lips. He almost began to kiss you deeply, when you heard John step into the room. “Alright, let’s get this over-” John’s eyes widened and a disgusted look washed over him. He quickly brought his hand up to cover his eyes. “Oh, come on guys!” He exclaimed, exasperated, almost letting out a chuckle. Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. You both turned your heads towards John. Sherlock reluctantly pulled his warm body away from yours, saying, “Oh, please John. I’ve caught you doing things quite worse than this.” John turned beet red, much the Sherlock’s amusement. “Who were you talking to, John?” Sherlock asked, changing the subject before John could object to his statement. John once again had a rosy tint shading his cheeks. He opened his mouth, stuttering out an inaudible reply. You were quite skilled in deduction, and the Scotland Yard hired you on as a detective. Greg and John always teased Sherlock when you were able to solve a before him. 

 

You just chuckled, scanning over John and noticing things, before you answered for him. “Clearly, by his blush and how he is fondly rubbing his fingers across his phone, the person he was talking with is dear to him.” You paused, looking over him again. “Also, I can deduce that it was someone who wants to see him, because of the way he keeps leaning towards the door and fixing his hair and jacket.” John stopped himself mid-hair fixing and cursed himself under his breath. He cheeks stayed an ever rosy color. You turned you head to Sherlock, smirking ever so slightly. He quickly hid his look of surprise and replaced it with one of admiration. Your smile quickly grew, your chest feeling warm at the loving look he  gave you. The moment could only last for so long before Sherlock had to say something. “You forgot one thing, love.” He whispered. You groaned and fell back in your chair while John laughed and asked for you, “And what’s that Sherlock?” Sherlock just looked at him and smiled. “You’ve met her before, been on a couple of dates, she owns a cat and has blonde hair. Am I right?” Sherlock addressed john, whose jaw was close to hitting the floor. John tried to formulate a response but Sherlock beat him to it. “Who am I kidding. I’m always right.” He said looking to you now. A huge grin spread across his face. 

 

You rolled your eyes and stood up. Stretching, you strode to the kitchen, teacup in hand to refill it. John awkwardly shuffled his feet, still standing by the door. He clearly didn’t want to be rude and leave you on your game night, but he also wanted to go on him date. Sherlock didn’t seem to notice or he just didn’t care about this piece of information, because he just picked up his playing token once again when you walked back into the room. John gave you a pleading look before you sighed. Taking your seat again, you glanced up at john and said, “Go. Have fun.” Waving a hand dismissing him. You could practically hear his gratitude as he thanked you and told you to have fun. He beamed at you before darting out the door. 

Sherlock just looked at you and then the spot where John stood seconds before, and gave you a inquisitive face. “He was itching to go, Sherlock. Plus, he managed to sit through five other games with you tonight, the poor man needs a break.” You answered his unasked question, with a sigh. “Hey!” Sherlock retorted, while you raised an eyebrow at him. Instead of continuing this little argument that you knew could possibly become a large one, you just picked up the dog playing piece. Examining it in your hands, you looked up at him through your lashes. “Now, let’s begin.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Moriarty crashes the party.

“Um…” You mumbled through the tension, your heated exchange with Sherlock only being moments ago. You glanced down at the playing board, and shuffled your piece around. “What?” Sherlock said, searching out your eyes. “There’s only two of us.” You groaned. Sherlock slowly put two and two together and nodded, collapsing back into his chair once again. There was absolutely no way you could play Monopoly with two people. “We could call Henry.” Sherlock stated after a few moments. “Who?” You questioned  scrunching your eyebrows. “Henry, Tom, Chris…?” he said looking at you expectantly. When you have him an incredulous, he sighed and made finger guns and acted like he shot them. You almost burst out laughing, as you finally understood who he was talking about. You decided to aggravate him a little more before you told him it was Greg. “A-are you cheating on me with a Henry Tom-Chris who shoots guns?” You feigned hurt, as you covered your face, concealing your laughter. You heard him sigh hard, as you finally couldn’t contain yourself any longer and burst out in fits of giggles. He crossed his arms and looked away from you. 

 

“Greg!” You exclaimed, ”His bloody name is Greg!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and fiddled with his thumbs a little bit. “We could invite Greg and Mrs. Hudson over…” You mulled over the thought, preparing to grab your phone to text Greg. The doorbell rang abruptly and you and Sherlock looked at each other suspiciously. No one had an appointment, and no one had rung prior to stopping by like most of your friends do. Sherlock quietly walked over to the door while the person on the other side began to knock in a tune. You frowned and tried to catch the rhythm. Your eyes widened when you realized what song it was. Sherlock seemed to register it as well, grabbing the shotgun places strategically near the door. The Thieving Magpie. The song James Moriarty had played when he stole the crown jewels. You felt panic bubble up in your chest, your mind finally catching up to what might happen within the next few moments. You had never met Jim. You were glad of that as well.

Sherlock told you he was a murderer and ‘consulting criminal’. That alone was enough for you to not want to go visit him in his supposed mental cell where he was apparently being held. ‘Well, not now.’ you thought, breath shaky. ‘It could just be someone just playing around, but no one we know would do that, especially after everything that happened on the roof that day.’ You continued your thought. You went to stand up and grab a weapon but Sherlock waved a hand at you to sit back down. You did as you were told, and sat back down, immediately looking around you to find a getaway route or weapon if needed.

After mentally locating about 10 weapons hidden within reaching distance, and 15 items you could use as a makeshift weapon, you set your eyes back on Sherlock. His hand hovered over the door knob, he closed his eyes as he let it rest there. You saw him visibly exhale deeply, shaken, as you became more and more worried yourself. It was interesting to see Sherlock go from cute and playful to serious and protective in such short time. The way his body went from loose to ridgid. The way his shoulders tensed and his muscles showed through the thin night robe. The vein in his neck showed up, threatening to burst at any moment if pushed. It was hot seeing him go into “Sherlock Holmes” mode. It warmed your heart and started to blush, but then you remember the circumstances at hand. You mentally slapped yourself for getting lost in your thoughts when such an important thing was going on. The person opposite of Sherlock started to whistle now too, all while keeping up the knocking. Sherlock huffed silently, as your body stiffened. He swung the door open to see the one and only, Jim Moriarty. You couldn’t see him yet, but he quickly pushed himself past Sherlock and into the room. You could only see his back, but noticed that he was slightly shorter than your boyfriend. He smirked at Sherlock and turned toward him. He hadn’t notice you yet, because you were still as a mouse, quietly sitting in your chair afraid to make a move for a weapon for fear that he would hurt Sherlock.

“Long time no see, Mr. Holmes.” He drawled, pushing himself uncomfortably close to Sherlock. Irish accent, you noted. Sherlock did not like to discuss anything much about Jim, understandably so, in your opinion. “What do you want?” Sherlock bit out, keeping eye contact with Jim. He was very desperate in trying to hide the fact that he didn’t want you to be seen by James. “Is that how we treat old friends?” Jim childed, chuckling lightly as he attempted to step around sherlock. Sherlock moved accordingly, still blocking Jim’s view of you. Now you could see half of Jim’s face. Sherlock must have forgotten to mention that James was not necessarily an ugly man. You looked him over, noting the suit, perfectly styled hair, manicure, and polished shoes. ‘This is not a man who just escaped from a mental asylum.‘ You digressed mentally. You looked at Jim’s eyes and saw nothing but black. He looked dead inside despite his able body. You shivered, having never in all your time working at Scotland Yard, seen someone as pure evil as this man was.

“What do you want?” Sherlock growled, tone even lower than before. Jim sighed, sounding bored. “You never change, do you Sherlock?” He whispered, closing the gap between himself and Sherlock. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach, wanting to just reach out and slap that smug look off his face.

Jim looked around the room a little bit, before saying, “What have you done to the place? Looks more…. What’s the word…. Lived in.” He spat, disgusted. He raised an eyebrow, motioning to the slightly changed setup of the living room. Sherlock ignored him. Jim swiftly sidestepped Sherlock and got around him, much to Sherlock’s silent protests. Looking around, Jim’s eyes met you, a malicious grin spread across his face once the one of confusion dispelled. He took a large step toward you, thin hand stretched out. “Don’t think we’ve met. Jim Moriarty, at your service.” He said giving a small bow. You glared at his hand until he brought it back to his side. Not saying a word, you kept your eyes on him and everything around you. “Quiet one, eh Sherlock?” He said spinning around to face him once again. You slipped your hand down into the side of the armchair you were sat in and pulled out the shotgun that was hidden. In one swift movement, you brought the barrel up to face Moriarty’s head, and pulled back the hammer. The loud click filled the room. “Ah.” Jim said, smirking, “ Feisty one, I see.” He turned back around to face you and bared his pearly white teeth. Gun trained on his forehead, you saw sherlock motion behind him, telling you to lower your weapon. You were uneasy, but did as you were told. Sherlock had dealt with this man before, there was no way you weren’t going to heed his every caution. Jim paced around the room, eyeing everything. He lazily ran a finger over the open board game on the coffee table. “You like monopoly, I see.” Jim sighed, glancing back towards you. “I’m more of a Game of Life guy. Although the Jailer is a pretty interesting character in monopoly…” Jim provided, as if you actually wanted to learn about his board game preferences. “He just… Takes whoever he wants and keeps them as long as he wants.” Jim explained in a sing-song tone. His evil smirk and crisp suit making him look quite frightening. The warmth of the fireplace now felt absent and cold with Jim’s eerie small talk. "Why are you here?” Sherlock finally spoke again, voice low and threatening. Jims hand slipped into his expensive pant pocket, and pulled out what seemed to be a business card and flung it onto your still lap. Forefinger still on the trigger, you touched the card and brought it closer for further inspection. “Go to the kitchen or Sherlock dies.” Was printed onto the card. It resembled a Monopoly playing card, which made you shudder. You swallowed hard, considering your options. You mainly wanted to keep Sherlock alive, and then worry about Jim. You shakily stood, avoiding Sherlock’s eyes the whole way. His galaxy colored orbs burned into you, not wanting you to leave his sight. You held the gun close to you as you walked slowly into the kitchen. “Why, Mr. Holmes, you seem to like playing games… so…. lets play.” You could practically heard the crazy look in jis eyes lit up.

The moment you stepped out of view of the two men, you reached for the phone. Before your had gotten within ten inches of the phone though, you blacked out. Bright rays of morning light passed through an open window, temporarily blinding you. You blinked hard. A raging headache fully encompassed your head making wonder if you went on a bender the prior night. Suddenly, you remembered everything. Sherlock, Monopoly, Jim, the kitchen. It all came back to you so fast, it made your head spin.

You immediately looked around for any danger, frowning as you did. You were in a…. warehouse? You couldn’t tell much, but that it was large and pitch black, except for the one window, which was directed at your chair and the floor beside it. You were sat in a cold metal chair and the place was too quiet for your liking. You glanced around for any sign of life and saw none. It was hard to see but you thought you caught a glimpse of someone laying on the ground on the far side of the building. Panic washed over you as you scrambled to your feet, looking for Sherlock. It would be just like him to sacrifice himself or do something equally stupid to save you. There wasn’t much that you could see in the dark warehouse. Just a glass of water and an aspirin waiting for you on a tray. You didn’t want to chance it, so you left them alone. You began your deductions, which made your headache reduce faster than any aspirin could.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The games begin.

‘Okay, I can do this.’ You thought to yourself. Eyes darting around the large musty warehouse, you looked for clues as to where you were. You stood up out of the chair, taking a couple of unbalanced steps over to the wall. You slowly placed your ear against the rough, cold wall and listened. You instinctively bit your lip, trying to concentrate on any noises outside of your captivity. You didn’t hear anything, so you knew that you were probably not close to civilization. Looking up at the window on your end of the building, you noticed that it was a darker light, indicating that it was around sunset. You shivered, feeling a frigid draft push past you. You were still in London most likely. Your breath caught in your throat as you heard something move at the other end of the building. Praying for the best, you called out. 

“Sherlock?” You roughly whispered out. You coughed, realizing how hoarse your voice was. Your eyes had begun to adjust to the lighting in the building and you never took your eyes off of where you heard the sound from. Noting a darker figure hunched against the far wall, you began to carefully walk over to them. The person coughed and tried to speak, quickening your pace.

Knowing how dangerous anything that Jim Moriarty created could be, you treaded lightly, watching for any trip wires or anything dangerous on the ground. 

“Y-Y/N. Stop.” The voice managed to call out. You stopped immediately, not moving an inch. You frowned, it was not Sherlock’s deep, condescending voice. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized who it was.

“John! You’re here too!” You gasped as he came into view. He was leaning against the wall, head in his hands. You took note of the bruises and bloodied knuckles that graced his fair complexion. 

"Have you seen Sherlock?” He asked, fearing the answer. You held back tears, wondering what Jim did the Sherlock. 

“Not yet.” You replied. John groaned, pushing himself up onto his feet. He fell against the wall with a grunt, legs weaker than yours were when you stood. You took a step forward to help him but he waved you off. 

“I’m fine, just stay away.” He said through gritted teeth. The pain he was in must’ve been close to unbearable. He limped over to where you stood, a shadow of his former self. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, placing his hands on your shoulders. “No, I’m fine.” You told him. He looked you in the eyes, searching them, making sure you were telling the truth. His blue eyes shone brightly in the yellow light from his window.

“We need to get out of here.” John supplied, running a hand through his silvery hair. You nodded, mind racing too fast worrying about Sherlock to be able to verbally reply. John wrapped an arm around your shoulder to stabilize himself. You complied, becoming his crutch. 

You began to walk, slowly but surely making your way around the dank building.

“He’s probably fine.” John gave you a half-smile, trying to reassure you. 

“I hope so-” You smiled back at him, but were interrupted by the sound of large switches being flipped. You and John looked around, crouching low to the ground to avoid danger. Suddenly, the warehouse filled with vibrant white light, temporarily blinding both of you. You rubbed your eyes hard, blinking vigorously. You slowly looked up, eyes now trying to adjust to the brightness of the warehouse. The building was all white, nothing else inside but the chair you woke up in and the table beside it. 

John looked up, squinting as well, assessing the area. 

"Gooooood evening, contestants!” Jim creepy voice sang, filling the room.

Yours and John’s eyes locked. 

“Contestants…” You murmured to each other. You desperately searched for the source of the voice.

“You seem to enjoy playing games. Let’s play.” Jim spoke softly, making you shiver.

 

Suddenly, a door on the other end of the building that you hadn’t explored yet, opened. In rolled a cage-like contraption, seemingly on its own, with a tall muscular body slumped in the corner of it. 

 

“Sherlock.” You breathed, trying to find a way to open the cage. Sherlock’s outline took up half of his given space. You hastily took a step forward, only to be held back by John. His grip tightened on your arm as you tried to tug away from him to check on your boyfriend. John slowly led you closer to him, his hand falling slack on your arm once Sherlock’s face came into view. Your hand flew over your mouth, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. John muttered a low,  
“Dear God…”, as you both took in Sherlock’s appearance.

John’s injures paled in comparison to Sherlock’s.  His right cheek the one you had pressed gently kisses to earlier that day or the day before, was now bruised and scraped. The dressing robe he was wearing when you were taken captive was torn and shredded. He had one black eye, swollen tightly shut. His shirt was ripped, revealing a large purple patch of bruised skin. His arms were loosely wrapped around himself, in a subconscious attempt to warm himself. His curls were stuck on his forehead in a cold sweat. You tried to determine whether he was passed out or worse but your tears blocked your view of him. John stepped even closer to try to notice a pulse or breathing, but was startled by Jim’s shrill voice calling out over the speakers.

“Ah, ah, ah! Step away from the prize, dear John. Have you forgotten how to play games? You must first earn the prize in order to look at it.” Your body shook with anger. You no longer felt cold, as your body boiled with heat. 

“YOU SON OF A B-” You screamed into the air, John placing a hand on your arm.

 

"Let’s do what he says, Y/N. That’s the best way of getting Sherlock out alive.” He whispered to you, interrupting your insult. You took three deep breaths. Fists clenched tightly, you nodded to him. Unable you speak, you let John.

“What do we have to do?” He called out. “No, no, no. I want Y/N to ask. Beg for it. Grovel.” He chuckled at his own words, “She is the one that has to say everything.” Jim explained. You could practically hear him sneer as he spoke. "What do we have to do?” You spat, John running a hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “Much better.” Jim applauded. He stepped into the warehouse, appearing out of nowhere. He still looked as put together as he did in 221B, with an even happier look on his disgusting face. An evil smirk graced his lips. “Like I said,” He clasped his hands together menacingly, “You like to play games. So let’s play some.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS SOONER. I made it a longer chapter to hopefully make up for that. ILY all. and thank you so much for your lovely comments.

John wiped a stray bit of hair out of his grime covered face as you stared Jim down from across the warehouse. Jim cocked a corner of his lip up and raised an eyebrow, inviting you to speak. Gritting your teeth once again, you prepared yourself. “What do we need to do?” You spat, throwing a nasty glare his way. He acted offended, tanned hand placing itself on his cheek as he gave you incredulous and upset look. You rolled your eyes at him, you sass creeping its way back into the situation.

“Well, now. Thats no way to speak to your captor, now is it?” Jim questioned, crossing his arms and sticking his bottom lip out, pouting.

You groaned, wanting to get whatever the hell Jim had planned over with quickly and safely. You opened your mouth to throw a particularly hurtful comment back at him, but then you momentarily gave a heart wrenching glance at the cage that Sherlock was passed out in. Swallowing your pride and decided to play along with Jim's stupid little game. “Fine. What do you want?” You asked in a slightly nicer tone. “We, my dearest, are going to play the Game of Life.” He announced, stepping forward as though he was making some grand gesture. “In this case, Sherlock here,” He motioned lazily to Sherlock's limp body, “Is the prize. Get everything right, you win him.” He stated, moving closer to you and John by stepping in front of the cage.

You nodded grimly, understanding the scenario. Jims evil smirk widened as he suddenly acted as though he remembered something important. John gave him a questioning look before narrowing his ice blue eyes suspiciously. “I almost forgot one little condition!” Jim exclaimed, rubbing his forehead, chuckling to himself. 

His face immediately dropped, his dead eyes looking into yours as he buried his hands into the pockets of his crisp suit. “You'll want to hurry if you want him to survive with minimal injury.” He drawled. You took two deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. He inspected his nails with sudden disinterest, and ran his other hand through his inky hair. He sighed deeply, glancing at his wristwatch. “40 minutes.” He informed you, bored tone masking his words thickly.

Never taking your eyes off of Sherlock or Jim, you nodded. The pit in your stomach grew larger and larger as he continued to not make any movements from his confinements. John breathed out, hearing Jim's piercing words. “This can't be too hard.” He murmured to himself, still looking astonished that all of this was even happening. “Ok then.” You shakily spoke, stepping closer, still quite far away from Jim. “How do we play?” John asked, taking a protective stance beside you, one battered hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. James’ wicked smile grew ten times in size at John's words.

“Glad you asked doctor.” He began, pacing back and forth and explaining the game, “You see, it's like a mix of all the fun little games. Life, Cluedo, and Monopoly.” He smirked, playing with the games names on his tongue. You frowned, trying to figure out how he planned of making those games into real life scenarios. 

“We will be starting with Cluedo.” Jim stated, clasping his hands together, making his way back over to the corner of the large room while yet another desk rolled in, seemingly by itself. You inspected it intently, not moving an inch closer.

Jim groaned, “You can get closer you know. It won't kill you.” 

You and John cautiously stepped forward towards the cart. There were four photos placed in it, a pocket knife, a rope, and two little cards sitting beside them. 

You gave John a nervous look.

“Someone died.” Jim sang, “Figure out who did it.” He smirked. “Go on.” Jim chirped. “Begin deducing. You only have 37 minutes left.” 

You quickly looked at your options, turning your brain on into detective mode, trying to block out any distractions. You decided to look at the photos first. Half of the photos were of two different women, starkly contrasting each other. One was blonde with glasses, a smart outfit and a fashionable purse and the other had black hair, sweater and a cup of gas station coffee in her hands. John took the other two photos in his hands and was faced with a similar scenario but with two men.

Swapping photos, you both finished looking at them and placed them carefully back on the table. You picked up the pocket knife, avoiding the dried blood stains on the end. Even though you worked with Scotland Yard, your nose still turned up at random people's blood. You were now used to seeing Sherlock or John and even Lestrade come into 221B bloodied. So their blood did not faze you much at all anymore. Inspecting it closer, you noticed a few polyester fibers that looked as though they would have come from one of the professional peoples stylish suits in the photos.

John's fingers nimbly picked up one of the cards and read it aloud to you. “What was the murder weapon?” He frowned.

“How in the bloody hell are we supposed to figure out how the person died, when we can't even see the body?” John's face grew increasing red, frustration overcoming him. “We'll figure this out.” You assured, biting your lip as you mentally tried to devise a plan to solve it. Your eyes narrowed as you swept your fingers across the large rope. It seemed relatively new, with the exception of dust. It seemed too easy though, to pick the bloody murder weapon. ‘Maybe that's why he gave us that option, to throw us off.’ You thought to yourself, glancing back over at the knife. 

“What?” John questioned, pulling you out of your thoughts. You must've mumbled part of your thoughts aloud, because he was giving you a confused look. “Oh, nothing.” You shook your head, returning your gaze to the table. “No, Y/N. You can't just say ‘Oh, nothing.’ When its a life or death situation!” He spat through gritted teeth. You knew he had an axe to grind with Sherlock, when he also did that to him. 

“Sorry, John. Sherlock must be rubbing off on me a bit.” You chuckled half-heartedly. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you remembered the circumstances. Johns features softened. “It's fine.” He stated, studying the photos once again. You repeated your thought to John, who agreed and said he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, that’s brilliant.” Jim called out, speaking again. “Very brilliant. We really do have the brain trust working on this right now.” He rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. 

Ignoring him, you picked up the other card. It read: 

Hint: The victim died outside, by their garden.

Your mind wrapped around the words trying to make sense of them. John read the card over your shoulder, with an equally perplexed look on his face. “What does that have to do with this?” John ripped the card out of your hands, throwing it to the ground in a slight fit, as Jim announced, “33 minutes remaining!”

“Golly me, Sherlock would’ve already have figured this out by now. You two are boring.” Jim leaned against the wall groaning, as you realized he gave you the answer. “I've got it.” You whispered to John, a smirk naturally appearing on your face like it usually does when you figure out a case. Sherlock once taught you all of the poisonous plants that could be grown in England and how exactly they could be used. He told you that there were two that had the most potency, and that they both had a distinctive smell to them. You picked up the rope, sniffed it, and placed it back down. 

Glancing up slightly at Jim you noticed him smile ever-so-slightly. Your stomach twisted in knots, realizing that he enjoyed you playing his games. The rope smelled of a dusty attic, so you moved onto the knife. You closed your eyes, not being able to look at it while you smelled it, you realized that it didn't smell of either plants. You frowned, beginning to doubt your theory a tiny bit. Then you remembered another thing that Sherlock had said. 

“This one, you see,” Sherlock pointed excitedly to a three leafed plant that looked quite harmless, “Can only be harmful if you boil it to extract its oils and then ingest them.” His eyes lit up as he explained the plant to you. He shoved it under the microscope and gently placed you in front of it by the shoulders. “Take a look.”He encouraged, giving you a beaming smile and a squeeze on the arm. “Lucky.” John called from his usual spot in the living room. “He didn't let me touch his microscope until six months of me living here.” Sherlock kindly asked him to shut up, as you giggled and looked at the leaf under the microscope. Sherlock snaked a arm around your waist, placing his mouth near you ear. He smirked against your ear. “You see, while this plant is fragrant, it has no flavor at all. So anyone could slip this into a drink and make it instantly more dangerous than cyanide.” He murmured. You had absolutely no idea how he could make such a sinister sentence sound so sexy, but he did. ‘It must've been that purple shirt.’ You thought to yourself, smiling fondly, reminiscing the moment.

Snapping out of your flashback, you put your mind to work again. You looked at the photos again, and your eyes were immediately drawn to the woman holding a coffee cup walking on a sidewalk in a seemingly friendly neighborhood. You brought John close, and told him your hypothesis quietly. “Its the woman holding the coffee cup. She must’ve slipped the plant that Sherlock told me about into the coffee and gave it to the victim.” “I'm waiting.” Jim tapped his toes impatiently. John nodded, causing you to finally break your silence to Jim. “We know who it was.” Your breath quickened as you spoke the words. Jim raised a brow questioningly, running a hand through his hair. 

You shakily held up the photo of the woman. “ It was her.” Jim paused a few beats. He smirked widely, his white teeth glinting in the bright lights. He pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to you. “Congratulations. You have successfully won the first game.” He awarded you and John. You sighed a breath of relief, as did John, before you spoke again. Knowing that time was running out quickly, you asked, “Whats next?”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The games continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! ily all and thanks for your support!

Jim smirked widely at you. Your stomach turned in disgust, as you watched the corners of his lips turn up into a nasty snarl. He opened his mouth to tell you what task was next, when a small groan came from Sherlock. Your eyes immediately darted over to him, pupils large with fear and some happiness that he was waking up. Your heart leapt into your throat as he moved the slightest bit. You moved to take a step towards him, so you could comfort him, but John gently grabbed your arm as he carefully studied Jim. Your captor hissed out a, “Don’t speak.” to you and John as he walked around to face Sherlock. You bit your lip, drawing blood, knowing that you woukdnt be able to talk to him. Jim, with a confused look, strode calmly over to Sherlock, observing him. Tilting his head to the left, then to the right, he smirked as Sherlock struggled to open his eyes fully. With his long legs folded uncomfortably underneath him, he tried to adjust him body.

“Ah. How kind of you to join me, Sherly dear.” Jim drawled. Sherlock didn’t respond, instead opting for a low moan. You bit your lip hard in anger as he flicked Sherlock’s cheek that was pressed up against the metal bars. 

“You speak when spoken to.” Jim demanded, now pinching Sherlock on the arm. Sherlocks back was to you, so he still didn’t know you were there at all. Sherlock winced, but couldn’t mpve himself away. He cracked open one eye, eyelashes fluttering, trying to adjust to the blinding light. His other eye was still swollen shut, a dark purple hue covering most of his right eye. Dark bruises littered his neck, as thought fingertips and hands had been wrapped around it. 

“W-where is she?” Sherlock rasped, voice more hoarse than yours or Johns. You opened your mouth to call out to him and tell him you were okay, but a quick menacing glare and a held up hand from Jim made you snap your mouth shut. Fists balled, you watched as Jim prolonged Sherlock’s agony over where you were. Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. Your body shook gently as you listened to Sherlock’s voice. It warmed you to hear its deep register again. Sherlocks head lifted for a moment, but he was unable to hold it up for long. He collapsed back,

“Oh don’t worry, I took care of her. She won’t be in the way for quite sometime now.” Jim lied through his pearly white teeth. He brought his face lower to meet his molasses eyes with Sherlock’s sky blue ones. Sherlock shuddered, visibly shaken and in pain but was refusing to worry about himself in that moment. “Tell me she isn’t hurt.” His dull eyes searched Jims black orbs. Sherlocks thin fingers reached shakily throught the bars and weakly gripped the lapel of Jim’s suit coat. Jim pursed his lips together into a thin line as Sherlock pulled him closer. “I took care of her.” Jim repeated, rolling his eyes. Sherlock growled, either in anger or in pain. “Please.” Sherlock whispered, beginning to sound a bit desperate. Jim rolled his eyes again. “Yuck. Ill never understand ‘Love’.” Jim spat, sdjusting his tie.

“She has to be okay.” Sherlock pleaded, ignoring his comment, still slumped against the bars that held him inside his small prison. One hand grasped onto a bar, trying to pull his weak body up into a better position, but struggled to do so. 

James shrugged, stuffing his hands back in his expensive pockets and shuffling around. 

“Torture me, hurt me, do whatever the hell you want to me, just don’t hurt Y/N.” Sherlock begged, hands shaking as he reached out to Jim. Jim gave him a nasty look before slapping his outreached hands back into the cage. 

“You better not have hurt her. Or I swear to-” Sherlock warned, voice gaining strength as he spoke passionately about you. Jim chuckled lightly before turning about and yelling, “OR WHAT, SHERLOCK?” “Hmm?” He questioned, hands wrapping tightly onto the cage and shaking it vigorously. “You’re too weak to be able to do anything.” Jim spat disgustingly, pushing Sherlock away and harshly into a wall, which caused Sherlock’s head to hit one of the bars and easily render him unconscious again. You removed your hand from your mouth, not even noticing when it had been placed there. A small sigh left John’s lips, as he took a step forward to Sherlock. Jim brushed off his hands and dusted his shoulders, before cracking his knuckles. “You won’t be able to wake him up now.” Jim supplied, smiling proudly at his ‘work’. 

“What did you do to him?” You spoke quietly, trying not to explode with emotion as you couldn’t bare to spare a glance to your unconscious boyfriend that was now on the farther side of the building. You knew if you looked at him again, no one would be able to stop you from attacking Jim. 

“I just injected him with a lethal dose of…. some scientific concoction.” Jim gestured to Sherlock, “I don’t know what’s in it.” Jim muttered lightly. You bit your lip so hard you drew blood. You considered your options. Push Jim further and possibly get and answer of what was in the injection, or continue Jim’s game in hopes that you could win fast enough to save Sherlock.

John was still silent as he never took his eyes off his best friend lying helpless. “Are you okay?” You asked, searching his eyes that were getting more and more distant as the seconds ticked by. “I-I don’t really know.” John admitted. “I don’t know if we can save him.” John whispered to you quietly, a single tear escaping his eye. You swallowed hard, fighting back your own tears. You offered John your hand. He glanced at it confused. “Soldiers?” You smiled the slightest bit. “Soldiers.” He affirmed, taking your hand tightly in his own. He brushed away the stray tear and turned his attention back to Jim after a deep breath. “Let’s play the next game.” John forced out as you squeezed his hand encouragingly. You still hadn’t released Johns hand, and had no plans to. Jim smirked again. ‘He has got to be getting tired of all that smirking.’ You thought to yourself. 

“Finally.” Jim rolled his eyes. “Took you long enough. I’m not even sure you’ll have enough time to save him now.” He pouted his lips and shrugged. 

He reached deep into the breast pocket of his westwood suit and pulled out two dice. “How about a bit of Monopoly to quench your thirst?” Jim raised an eyebrow. You nodded grimly, doing whatever it would take to save the man that loved you most. Jim sauntered over to the desk that contained all the items from the game of Cluedo and lifted it up to reveal a secret compartment that held a simplified version of the board game. 

“It’s a bit of a different version of Monopoly than what you’re used to. Same rules though. ” Jim explained, tossing both you and John a set of dice. “Roll as many times necessary to get around the board once.” John nodded solemnly, pushing the desk that had the water and aspirin on it that you were initially giving away to make room for the board.

“Oh except one little new rule. If you roll doubles, something happens to someone you love.” Jim added, placing the board on the floor and sliding it haphazardly over to you. “Don’t land in Jail either. Or something happens to your beloved Sherlock.” He smirked, thick eyebrows curving into a malicious look. “26 minutes.” Jim called, after you opened up the board. Crouching down, you picked up the little car, choosing it as your playing piece and John took the top hat. You wished yourself luck as you shook your hands with the dice, and released them onto the playing board. A breath of relief graced you, as you rolled a 4 and a 5. You picked up your piece and moved it 9 places. You were 4 away from the Jailer place. 

John did the same, and threw his dice down. He rolled a 3 and a 6. You sighed happily as his playing piece met yours. You picked up your cold dice and blew on them as per tradition. “C’mon.” You whispered to them. They flew from your hands and one rolled on its corner for a second before you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding in as you rolled a 4 and a 2. You moved 6 spots, easily passing over the Jailer spot. You looked at John reassuringly, as he closed his eyes and rolled his dice one more time. Time seemed to stop as you carefully watched two 2’s roll on their edges. They spun for what seemed like forever before finally settling and making your heart sink. John opened one eye, looking at the doubles on the board. “Why….” John asked to seemingly no one. 

“Oh goody.” Jim exclaimed, practically skipping over to the two of you. “A double AND you landed in Jail.” Jim laughed, smile reflecting the sunsets light through the small window. Jim made a ‘womp-womp’ noise, sounding like you were on some reality tv show, and you had just lost the grand prize.

“It’s not your fault.” You tried to stay strong for John, who had his head buried in his hands, as Jim pulled out his phone and pressed a couple buttons. He then walked over to Sherlock, and seemingly pulled a syringe out of thin air, and placed it directly into Sherlock’s vein. You yelled out something incomprehensible, feeling the floodgates open and release the tears that had been held back ever since the beginning of this crazy journey. 

You tried you best to not let it affect you, but you knew you couldn’t do it for long.

“15 minutes now.” Jim announced, the time being shortened significantly. John who still hadn’t looked up, and was rocking back and forth, with nothing but the occasional sound of a sob escaping from him. He knew something had happened to Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, or Molly, and Sherlock was getting worse, all because of him. He was coming down quite hard on himself, considering a roll of the dice is just that, a roll of the dice. There is no way to predict with outcome you will get.

You decidedly picked up the dice one more time. You rolled them, noticing John pick up his head and watch intently. You couldn’t help but let out a small yelp of happiness as you rolled a 5 and 6, successfully putting you at the end of the shortened board. John took a calming breath, and rolled. This time his eyes were trained on them. His luck must’ve changed right then and there, because he also rolled a 5 and 6. 

Jim sighed, disappointedly. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk as you stood back up. “Okay, we won. Now give us back Sherlock.” You demanded, dusting your bottom off from the dirty warehouse floor.

Jim considered it for a moment, looking over at Sherlock before making a decision. “One last game.” He announced, dragging the cage back into the center of the building. 

You scoffed, as did John. “ You bloody well said we had to win. We won. Hold up your end of the bargain.” John finally broke his silence, voice cracking and rough. You nodded in agreement.

“Ah, yes. But I said three games. Cluedo, Monopoly, and Life.” He reminded, tapping his temple and sending a swift wink towards you. You resisted the urge to gag when he did so, and instead asked, “Fine. Let’s play Life. How do we play?” You asked, getting slightly panicked, because it had been awhile since Jim had done a time announcement. 

Jim snarled, as he gave you both a incredulous look. “One item in this room can fix Sherlock.” Jim reluctantly explained. He stalked his way over to the door, leaning against the doorframe. “Good luck with saving his life.” Jim motioned to Sherlock, before disappearing out the door and all that was left of him was the soft click of the door shutting behind him. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The race against the clock to save Sherlock is on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos!

Silence filled the warehouse. You ran over to the door Moriarty disappeared out of, to try and catch it before it closed. Gripping tightly on the door handle you pushed and pulled but it wouldn't budge. “C’MON YOU STUPID DAMN DOOR.” you screamed at the door, slamming your hands against it. Tears threatened to spill again as you collapsed against the door defeatedly. Lip quivering, you put you head in your hands, resting your elbows on your knees. 

John cautiously walked over to you as you hid your face from him.

“Y/N. Y/N, It'll be okay.” He whispered to you, voice betraying him as he uttered words that he wasn't even sure he believed. You shook your head, shrugging. “I can't do this.” You said looking up at John. “Yes you can. We can.” He gave you a half smile. He held out his hand to you, and you took it. He pulled you up and wrapped his arms tightly around you. Surprised, you let out a small squeak. He chuckled, which made you smile.

“Now lets save this a-hole before he come back from the dead in 3 years and blames us for not saving him.” John instructed trying to keep a straight face. You laughed wholeheartedly for what felt like the first time in years. “Lets.” You agreed, striding with newfound confidence over to Sherlock. You tugged at the door of the cage gently and felt no give. “Oh bloody hell.” You cursed under your breath. John and Sherlock's’ phrases were beginning to rub off on you. That was something you planned to bring up the next time you had them all safely at 221B. John walked up beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Can't open it?” He questioned, already knowing the answer. “Hmph.” You hummed, fiddling with the jammed cage door.

“Hold on a sec.” John held up a finger after a moment of thinking. You waited as he walked behind you and picked up the heavy metal chair you woke up in. He rushed it back over to you, and counted down from three. He instructed you to hold the cage as still as possible. He held the chair up, and swiftly brought the leg of it on the lock that was securing Sherlock in the cage. A large ‘clink’ echoed through the warehouse as the lock broke and fell to the floor. John smirked up at you as he bent down and picked the lock up. You rushed around and flung open the door immediately. You hesitantly placed your palm on Sherlock's cheek, relief flooding through you as you felt his warmth. Your eyes flicked down from his face, as you watched to slow and methodical rise and fall of his chest. You let out the breath you were holding in. You collapsed down onto your knees, your hand never leaving his face. 

Hot tears stained your cheeks as you savored the moment of being able to feel Sherlock again. You slipped your other hand in his, gripping tightly. John rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a moment.

“We should probably work on finding something to save him with.” John suggested, motioning to Sherlock, as you looked up at him. You blinked blankly, dumbfounded for a moment, then nodded. Pushing yourself up you reluctantly removed your hand from Sherlock’s. You sighed while assessing the room, for what you hoped was, the last time. John ran his hands along the walls, feeling for a loose tile or something where an antidote might be hidden. “Find anything?” You called out, still searching under the chair and even the cage to possible stumble upon a hidden chamber. Jim hated you, yes. But he wouldn’t make it impossible to win, because he loved the challenge. So you know whatever could fix Sherlock was hidden in the large warehouse somewhere.

“Nope, nothing here.” John replied, walking over to you. Jim's shrill voice rang out over the intercom as he had done in the beginning of all this. “Eight minutes!” He sang happily. You growled low, frustration overtaking you. You paced the room, walking around the table that held the water and aspirin. You tried to go into your mind palace that Sherlock had been teaching you to build but you were way to distracted to be able to use it at that moment. “Six minutes.” Jim announced, sounding bored this time.

“Where,” You threw the chair out of the way, “The hell,” You shook the cage lightly, not disturbing Sherlock, “Is the damn medicine?” You yelled, tears threatening once again to spill out. John bit his lip worriedly, still looking around frantically. Anger boiled in the pit of your stomach as you walked over to the door. You beat your hand against it rapidly. “Coward!” You screamed at Jim who probably wasn't listening, and if he was, didn't care one bit. “Couldn't stay in here for the ending, eh?” You continued, slamming your fist against the door. You felt your knuckles crack and bruise with each hit but you didn't care. You were to blind with rage and fear of losing Sherlock to feel any pain as you repeatedly punched the door. 

Footsteps quickly fell as you felt John grab your arms, holding them behind your back. Everything felt as though it was in slow motion as Jim called out, “Four minutes.” Tears were streaming down your red face, John trying to gently calm you down by whispering in your ear. You couldn't hear a thing he said as you screamed. You fought against John's hands around your wrists. “You will not hurt my Sherlock!” You screamed at the shut door. Jims voice once again sounded over the intercom, this time making a ‘Tick-tock’ noise. John loosed your hands as you collapsed to the floor, defeated. John yelled profanities up into the air, reaching no one's ears. Time was running out quickly and you both knew it. You gave up on trying to keep the tears out of your eyes and clouding your vision. 

You looked up, eyes falling onto the little desk that you woke up beside. You frowned, pushing your knotted hair out of your face as you sniffed and stood up slowly. All sound faded out as you made your way over to the table. Your fingers danced on the aspirin tablet. ‘It can't be this easy.’ You thought, realizing just how much it was in plain sight. John jogged over to you, looking at you curiously. “Might as well try it.” He proposed, snatching the glass of water from the table as you picked up the pill. You both ran over to Sherlock's cage as Jim's voice rang through the warehouse, counting down the last 60 seconds. 

You tugged gently on Sherlock's chin, popping the pill onto the center of his tongue after his jaw slacked open easily. John poured the tiniest bit of water in, to dissolve the tablet, and made sure it was not enough to accidentally choke him. You gently closed Sherlock's mouth, and prayed for the best.

“10.” Your breath hitched.

“9.” John grasped your hand, refusing to let go.

“8.” You squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

“7.” John started mumbling incoherently.

“6.” Jim either slowed down his counting or time was beginning to slow in your mind.

“5.” You opened your eyes and stared at Sherlock, waiting for a movement of some sort.

“4.” John sighed heavily and shakily, his entire body trembling.

“3.” Your mouth dried up, and you suddenly had the urge the rub your itchy eyes.

“2.” Panic washed over you even more than it had before as you heard Jim say it.

“1.” Jim spoke quietly as though it was over.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and John try to find out if Sherlock is alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos! Thanks for all your support on this fic! I means alot.

All thoughts abandoned you as Jim’s voice faded off the intercom. “Sherlock.” You whispered breathlessly, hands shaking as you grabbed his hand desperately. Hot tears flooded your face and white noise filled your ears, as you felt how cold Sherlock’s skin was. “No, no, no. Oh God no.” John cried out, voice cracking as he leaned against the wall, sliding down it with blank eyes. You tried to swallow but it caught in your throat. Twisting his hand around you revealed the pristine and untouched skin of his wrist. You pressed two hopeful fingers against the vein in his wrist, feeling for a pulse. You stilled your breathing, in a futile attempt to catch even the slightest hint of a pulse. A beat passed. No pulse was there, and in that moment you felt a piece of your soul breaking. Tears temporarily blinded you as you frantically removed your fingers from that spot and shoved them down into another spot, creating a two small bruises there. 

You waited another moment but still felt nothing. It felt as though your heart finally decided to give out as your vision started to turn black before everything faded back into view blurred. You dropped his hand, suddenly feeling lightheaded from all the panic and stress. “Oh God.” You moaned, swaying back and forth on your feet. “John.” You muttered, trying to get him to come over to you. “Y/N you need to sit down.” John directed, grabbing you under your arms to stabilize you. “No, no. Help Sherlock, not me.” You mumbled incoherently feeling extremely dazed. You knees buckled underneath you, as John helped you to the floor. 

John got down on his knees and felt Sherlock for a pulse. After waiting a moment on his wrist, he placed his fingers on Sherlock's neck, feeling for another pulse. You stared ahead blankly with no emotions, ignoring John's urgent call of your name. You felt like you wanted to cry, but no tears came. “Y/N!” John yelled louder, cursing at you. You grudgingly pulled your emotionless attention from the wall and tuned into John’s voice. You squinted a bit, trying to make John and Sherlock come into focus. 

“Y/N! He has a pulse!” John exclaimed smiling widely at you. You didn’t immediately reciprocate the happiness back to John because you were still trying to process his words. “Pulse.” You murmured, trying to stand up. Legs weak, you somehow managed to drag yourself over to John. He gently picked up you hand and placed it on Sherlock's neck. You didn’t feel anything and your eyes started to water again, wondering if it was all some cruel joke. John frowned and readjusted your fingers. You felt a beat under your fingers, although it was slow, it was also steady. Suddenly everything felt light. The warehouse light that once seemed dull brightened back up, your mind became clear and all of your thoughts and efforts were now directed to Sherlock. You make a small happy noise, never removing your fingers from his neck. 

“Sherlock.” You whispered out, pushing some curls out of his eyes with your free hand. His breath quickened for a moment, then slowed again. More and more frequently his pulse and breathing quickened. Running your thumb gently across his forehead, you gazed lovingly at him. ‘He needs to wake up so we can get out of here.’ The thought nipped at your heels in the back of your mind. However, you were too overjoyed by the revelation that Sherlock was alive to worry too much about getting out at that moment. 

John told you to move out of the way, so he could pull Sherlock out of the cage. You did as you were instructed, after pressing a quick kiss to Sherlock's temple and reluctantly removing your hands from him. John unceremoniously dragged Sherlock’s limp body halfway out of the cage. “Get over there are grab him by the arms.” John directed. You did, avoiding as many of Sherlock’s cuts and bruises as you could and you both hefted Sherlock completely out of the cage and into the middle of the warehouse. 

You gently placed his head down on the palm of your hand as you laid halfway down beside him on the concrete. You brushed your hand through his matted locks, and wiped some of the dirt off his cheek. The steady rise and fall of his chest reminded you of home, and you suddenly felt very sleepy. John sat down in the chair that you woke up in, giving you are Sherlock as much privacy as he could. You draped Sherlock’s heavy arm over your waist. You sighed, snuggling up closer to Sherlock, still waiting for him to wake up. Your eyes began to drift shut as the weight of the day finally crashed down on you. 

A few moments after falling in and out of sleep with Sherlock’s warm arm on you, a light groan escaped someone's lips. You looked up and over at John inquiringly who just shrugged and pushed himself out of his chair. He walked over to you, kneeling down behind Sherlock. You watched Sherlock’s features intently waiting for any subtle movement. Sherlock moaned and made more frantic noises. He desperately called out your name a couple of times, to which you just shushed him a pressed small kisses against his cheek. He got quiet for a moment. Then Sherlock’s non-black eye flew open suddenly, startling both you and John. His arm around your waist tightened instinctively while he took in his surroundings. All of the memories of what happened came flooding back to him. A large smile burst out across your face when he turned his head and looked at you. Your breath hitched as you finally saw the bright blue galaxies that swam in his eyes once again. 

“Took you long enough.” He smirked at you. His voice was rough but still as lilting and frustrating as ever. Your head tipped back, unable to hold in a couple happy chuckles at the man that who had been to hell and back within a matter of hours. John slapped him on the shoulder making Sherlock wince. “Damn you, Sherlock.” John muttered, trying hard to keep a straight face while Sherlock winked at him. “How do you feel?” You asked, concerned.

“I’m fine.” Sherlock assured, he brought his hand up to his swollen eye grimacing in pain. You helped him sit up and gently rubbed circles on his back. He took your hand in his, squeezing it tight. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugged you for awhile. “Thank you, Y/N.” He whispered into your ear. You melted into his embrace. “It was nothing.” You replied after he released you from the hug. John scoffed loudly. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “What, John?” Sherlock asked, not really wanting to know what John was so upset about. “I'm sorry, but Y/N here,” He gestured to you sitting beside Sherlock, “Isn't telling you the truth. It bloody well was hard, trying to get you back.” He exclaimed, gesticulating in all directions. You giggled, leaning into Sherlock’s side. “Well I’m sorry for causing you trouble.” Sherlock deadpanned. Johns face fell. “No I didn’t mean it-, I-I was just trying to tell you-” He stuttered tried to explain but Sherlock cut him off. “Are you alright, Y/N?” He turned an attentive eye to you, as if he had just remembered that you could also have been hurt. You smiled at him and nodded. “I'm fine.” You said calmly. “Oh thank God.” He sighed, resting his head on your shoulder. 

Everyone waited for a few moments, before Sherlock piped up. “Let’s get out of here.” He commanded, surveying the warehouse in true ‘Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective’ Fashion. You hummed in agreement, heart dropping a bit when he unwrapped his arm from around you as he stood. “Are you okay to walk?” John asked gruffly, rushing over to Sherlock’s side to help him stand with stability. “I thought so.” Sherlock admitted, voice cracking from lack of water. You stood up, dusting yourself off and walked to the opposite side of Sherlock. He placed his arms around both yours and John’s shoulders. You became his crutch as he directed you in where he wanted to go in the empty building. 

“A little to the left- YOUR LEFT, Y/N.” He exclaimed unimpressed, making both you and John laugh loudly, almost forgetting what danger could be waiting outside of the warehouse. “Take me to that door.” Sherlock ordered, setting his sights on the big metal door. You huffed, and slowly but surely made your way over to the door. Sherlock bent down, inspecting the round bar that served as a door handle carefully. Your eyes met John’s uncertain ones over Sherlock’s back. 

“Don’t think that I don’t know how to open this.” Sherlock patronized making you both roll your eyes. He narrowed his eyes and placed an ear against the handle. He bit his lip, unknowingly seducing you, while listening for a sound. You pushed those feelings down for another time, reprimanding your hellish hormones. John gave you a funny look as you mentally slapped yourself, realizing that you were probably turning red and making faces. Sherlock gave the door a tug, and then two swift pushes. He heard a small click. Then he grabbed the end of the handle a pulled it twice to the left and three times to the right. Everyone heard the lock disengage. Sherlock slowly stood back up. The smirk on his face was unmatchable, wired with confidence and arrogance. 

“Told you.” Sherlock whispered at both of you. You groaned and John rolled his eyes again. “Come on.” He instructed, carefully pulling the door open, You went behind Sherlock, John following you out the door. Sherlock had now regained his balance and strength in his legs so he didn't need you to help him anymore. “I’m going to go check this way.” John informed you, pointing down the hall in the way that Moriarty did not walk out. Sherlock nodded. “Vatican Cameos?” Sherlock asked with a cocked smile and a raised eyebrow. “Vatican Cameos.” John smiled back, acknowledging the safe-word if something were to happen. You worried for John, and almost spoke out as he disappeared into the unlit part of the hallway. Panic about possibly seeing Jim again filled you. You breathing became erratic as you stepped out the door. Grabbing a handful of Sherlock's ripped nightgown that he was still in,the two of you pressed your backs against the long hallways wall. A quarter of the way down the hallway, you heard a sound. You stopped and stilled against the wall. Sherlock held up a hand, silencing you. A shadow passed at your end of the hall. Sherlock took a tentative step forward. “Sherlock!” You muttered not wanting to lose him again. You grabbed ahold of his arm and didn’t let go. 

Sherlock spun around and gave you a confused look as you almost began to cry. He immediately wrapped his arms around you. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked, looking you deep in the eyes. You couldn't form a sentence so you just shrugged, looking down at the floor and shuffling your feet in embarrassment. He took you by surprise by hastily placing his warm lips on yours. You squeaked as all of your previous fears melted away. You deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His eyes fluttered shut as he softened into the kiss. You smiled slightly against his lips. “I’ve missed you.” You whispered to him after breaking the kiss for air. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He hummed in response, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. He smiled brightly at you. Placing his palms on your cheeks he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you-”

Footsteps approaching quickly made both you and Sherlock whip around towards the sound and become quiet. Sherlock protectively flung an arm in front of you, pulling you to safety behind him. You held your breath, waiting for the worst. John stepped into view. You sighed heavily, collapsing against the wall in relief. “Nothing down there.” He motioned to the back half of the hallway. “Damn it John.” Sherlock exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest to feel his erratic heart rate. “What?” John asked confused. “You scared us.” You evil-eyed him. He chuckled. “I SCARED YOU!” He laughed. “We’re fine now. Let’s just get out of here.” Sherlock changed the subject, avoiding John’s eyes. You kept moving down the hall. Once you reached the end, you all decided to turn left and continue down that hall. Two large double doors were lit up at the end of the hall that you assumed was the exit. About three yards before you reached the doors, a figure stepped out in front of them. You all stopped abruptly, watching the figure intently. 

“Well hello, Sherlock.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet up with Jim, and find out what really happened

“Jim.” Sherlock hissed, looking at Jim. His arm protectively wrapped back behind him and around your waist. 

“You son of a bitc-” John spat. 

“Meeeee?” Jim frowned, pouting. 

“You’re alive, get over it.” Jim rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. 

You heard Sherlock’s jaw click as he bit down hard, trying to contain his anger. 

“Why did you do this?” Sherlock spat, narrowing his eyes at Jim. He gestured to the room and everything that had happened. 

Tapping his foot for a moment, Jim thought. 

“Seemed like fun.” A slow and nasty smirk crept on his face. You shuddered, resentment boiling over inside your mind. 

You stepped out from behind Sherlock, against his silent protests, slowly and carefully making your way closer to Jim. 

“What did you drug Sherlock with?” You growled, wanting to know. Jim’s smirk widened.

“Come a little closer and i’ll tell you.” He whispered, cocking his head to the side.

You thought intensely, trying to decide what to do. You took two steps closer to him, and stopped.

You were just out of arm’s reach of Jim. Sherlock edged closer to you, John mirroring him. “Saline.” Jim’s crooked smirk spoke. You frowned. “W-what? That can’t be. He was about to die!” You exclaimed, very confused. John made a noise of disbelieve. “Oh you stupid, stupid, girl.” Jim dotted, pacing back and forth. Sherlocks fists became tight, sweat from anger making his curls stick to him forehead.

“You think I was about to let my only true rival, DIE? And my last game be with you two? You bloody idiots.” He laughed maniacally. 

“B-but his heartbeat was gone!” You tried to reason it out in your head. You didn’t want to believe that there was a race against a non-existent clock.

“Oh that,” Jim nodded slowly, “The aspirin was out of date. Temporarily slows the heart rate.” He smiled like the Cheshire cat. Sherlock growled low, as you and John were still utterly baffled.

“So I wasn’t dying.” Sherlock asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh god, no. When I kill you, it will be just you and me, Sherly dear.” Jim assured. The words sent a shiver down your spine. Sherlock nodded solemnly.

“Damn you Jim.” John hissed. Jims eyes flicked to John. He just turned up one corner of his lip. 

“We won.” You spoke up, finally trusting your voice again.

Jim huffed, and crossed his arms. 

“Yes, i suppose you did.” He rolled his eyes. “We are leaving now.” Sherlock told Jim sternly. Jim just groaned in response. “Fiiiiiine.” He pouted. 

“You can turn yourself in you know,” Sherlock called out, tousling his hair a bit, and wincing when he accidentally knicked his wound on his hand. 

“Might only get sentenced to 5 lifetimes in prison instead of 10 for breaking out of jail and the insane asylum.” Sherlock offered to Jim, who pursed his lips while thinking about the proposition. 

“No thanks, darling.” Jim shook his head.  Sherlock smirked and cocked an eyebrow, biting his lip. 

“Your loss.” Sherlock shrugged, grabbing your hand and leading you out. 

“Let’s get out here.” You whispered to Sherlock, still clutching his hand. He nodded. 

“Aww. Don’t leave.” Jim called as the three of you carefully and slowly walked by Jim. 

“We were just beginning to have fun.” He whined. 

You rolled your eyes. After you were out of earshot, you whispered to Sherlock. “What about Jim?” You asked as you made your way to the door. 

“Lets just get home.” Sherlock responded, ignoring your question. 

“We can’t just leave him here…?” You questioned stopped, frowning. Sherlock smirked at you. “Dont worry love, He’s going to wish that he came with us.” 

You chuckled, knowing that Mycroft and his men was somehow going to be involved. John rushed ahead of you two and leaned his back against the wide double doors. 

He pushed them both open, revealing the outside world to you once again. You breathed a sigh of relief as you felt the warmth of the sunset touch your skin. Sherlock took a deep breath, basking in the cool breeze. The warm glow of the setting sun rested on his face, flattering his features. Feeling the grass under your feet, every fear you had washed away. You reveled in the bright light that you so dearly missed, even though you were relatively certain that it was still the same day you have been taken. 

John smiled slightly to both you and Sherlock. 

Then one last fear overtook you. “Wait.” You called out to them. 

“Where are we?” You quietly whispered, the wind carrying your words to them. 

John groaned loudly. He threw his head back. 

“C'mon! Can’t we catch a bloody break?!” He exclaimed, clenching his fists.

Sherlock smiled at him. He glanced around, squinting a bit into the distance. He licked his finger and held it up into the wind. Taking mental notes and murmuring, he bent down and ran his slender fingers across the reddish colored dirt. He abruptly stood up. He walked over to the warehouse, inspecting it. He tousled his curly locks while looking into the window of the building you were just in. Turning his head slowly, he gave you the signature smirk before speaking: “I know where we are.” 

You breathed a sigh of relieve, “Lead the way then.”

——————————————————— 

You arrived at 221B half past 2 AM after a long night. After you had escaped (around eight thirty), it took you two hours of walking to come to the edge of central London. From there, you piled into a cab and took a half hour drive to Scotland Yard. It was getting cold, so you gratefully accepted when Sally offered you her jacket to go home in. When they had found out that the three of you were missing, they all stayed up and tried to track you down. You walked into Lestrade’s office and saw his sitting at his desk with a cast on his arm. Sherlock breezed in behind you, and Greg shot up from his desk and rushed over to him. “Thank God your okay. I hate that twat.” Greg spat, pulling Sherlock in for a hug. Sherlock stood there stock still, before giving you a desperate look. You just smiled at him.

There, you were informed that someone had tried to take Lestrade’s life while he was casually walking on the street. Some random man attacked him with a knife, and pushed him into the road where Greg luckily wasn’t run over, but unluckily landed funny on his left arm, causing it to break. You automatically knew it was Jim’s fault, after you and John had failed at the one game. 

Lestrade made sure you knew that it wasn’t your fault, even though you felt like it was all on you. “You almost died, Greg!” You yelled through tears at him while he sat at his desk, nursing his broken arm. “Not really. It was all Moriarty and his stupid henchmen.” He spat disdainfully. 

“Well it was my fault.” You sobbed. Sherlock ran a comforting hand across your back. He had gotten cleaned up and his injures also bandaged while you had found out about Lestrade’s eventful day. 

Greg sighed. “It’s not your fault, Y/N.” He assured. Sherlock nodded in agreement, pulling you closer. He wrapped his strong arms around you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. Your breathing evened, and you shakily composed yourself. You nodded to Greg, accepting that he was right.

He smiled kindly at you, then waved you off, instructing you to get some sleep.

You filled out all the paperwork necessary against Jim, then collected John from the phone who called his new girlfriend to tell her that he was okay.

You then left from there and headed to Mycrofts office. Sherlock told you to stay with John outside. You reluctantly agreed and watched him disappear into Mycrofts office area. Sherlock appeared an hour later. He smirked at you lifting up his hand to reveal his beautiful wool coat in his hands. He wrapped it around his shoulders, sighing as it slipped on perfectly.

“How many of those coats does Myc have?” You asked, laughing.

“As many as I need.” Sherlock responded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He finally looked presentable again. While you were walking out, Myc’s large wooden door swung open causing the three of you to turn and look at him. Mycroft grimaced as he flung a small hat to Sherlock. 

“Almost forgot your hat, brother of mine.” Sherlocks face fell as he caught the deerstalker hat he despised so much. 

He turned sharply on his heel and walked out, leaving you and John chuckling while Mycroft disappeared back into his office with a small smile on his face. 

After you caught back up with Sherlock who was already flagging down another cab, you poked him in the side where he didn’t have any bruises. He frowned, looking down at you.

“Put it on.” You told him seriously, trying not to laugh. 

“Put what on?” Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes.

“The hat, Sherlock.” You rolled your eyes.

“No. No way.” He turned away from you, tucking the hat under his arm.

“You’re Sherlock Holmes, put on the damn hat.” You ordered, making him look at you. He huffed and tapped his foot. He swiftly bent down and placed a kiss on your lips. He pulled away smirking, leaving you breathless. He brought his lips close to your ear and whispered gently to you.

“I’ll wear it, but only for you darling.” He drawled, English accent prominent. The warmth of his breath on you neck made you shiver. John had successfully gotten a cab and called to you both. 

“We will continue this later.” He bit your lip gently after kissing you again, making you gasp slightly. 

Sherlock nodded to John and pulled himself away from you. He adjusted the hat, and put it on. He gave you a goofy smile, making you snort, then you both walked over and got into the cab with John. 

You stayed out for a bit and ate dinner at one AM, deciding that it was too late to make food at home. Then you finally decided to return home. 

Opening the door, you all walked in and heard Mrs. Hudson rushing down the stairs from 221B. “Oh! I just finished making your beds and putting a kettle of tea on for you.” She exclaimed, giving John a hug which he gladly returned. 

“I’m going to go take a shower and head to bed.” He informed you. You nodded and wished him a goodnight. 

“Are you alright dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked you, giving you a hug. 

You nodded and told her you were fine, just tired. She understood at let the two of two of you go upstairs. Sherlock hung up his new coat and hat, and followed you up the stairs. You collapsed onto the couch with a groan. 

Sherlock tossed you the blanket, which you gladly accepted. 

“Want a cup of tea?” He asked you, walking into the kitchen. 

“Mmm. Yes please.” You said smiling at him. He rolled up his sleeves, and made two cups of tea. He walked back into the living room and sat down beside you. You pulled the blanket you were under over him, forcing him to snuggle up beside you. Although it was less of forcing him to do it, and more of you trying to quickly adjust on the couch while he happily leaned his weight against you.

You both quietly sipped your tea for awhile listening to the water of Johns shower. You glanced at him. His face was already starting to look a bit better, and his eye was now open, although still black and blue. His high cheekbones were highlighted perfectly in the lowlighting of the living room. You took a deep breath, taking in his appearance. You had missed him so much for those few short hours while he was unconscious. He felt you staring at him, and turned his head to meet your eyes. He smiled softly to you. Your eyes fluttered down to his forearm that was resting on his leg. Amidst the large patchy bruises that were scattered there, you noticed two small green bruises that were right on his pulse point on his wrist. You suddenly realized where they came from. Sherlocks eyes followed your down soon finding the spot you were looking at. He sat his tea down on the coffee table as you gently and carefully ran your fingers over the two bruises, your fingers feeling the ghost motion on jamming themselves onto his pulse point desperately trying to find a pulse. 

Your eyes welled up with tears as he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head. You cuddled closer to him, placing your ear on his chest and listening to the melodic rhythm of his heart. You suddenly felt extremely tired, your eyelids shuttering closed while Sherlock pressed kissed to the top of your head, silently letting you know he was there for you. Lulled by his heartbeat and warmth, you began to fall asleep in his arms, feeling safe and happy. “Go to sleep my love.” Sherlock whispered to you. You mumbled in response. “We are going to have a lovely, uneventful day tomorrow. And if I remember correctly, I still have a game to win.” He challenged in a sweet tone. You shook your head, lightly tapping him on the arm. He chuckled, reverberations in his chest from his laughter being the last thing you remember hearing or feeling as you feel asleep.


End file.
